Victoria, Hail to the Queen
by The Writer From The Mist
Summary: Tori is Queen of a powerful kingdom and is married to King Beck from the nieghbouring power. Their marriage seems happy with heirs and love, but the King is still a mna, and the Queen is able to do everything except look the other way this time. Romance, angst, lies, conspiracies, deaths that circle around them. (Bori mainly, and a little Cabbie) May include some M stuff later on.


**_So hey guys! First of all, I'd like to say I'm writing this fanfic mainly for a single reason._**

**_In my school, Caxton College, I consider us all as just a very big family, and well...Last year, on the 25th of November of 2012, we lost an important member. My tutor group lost its tutor: Mrs Helena Elizabeth Parish (R.I.P)._**

**_She was a great woman, full of courage and determination, and she loved us all as if her own offsprings. She was ready with smiles, she encouraged us on, she helped us up a step further on the difficult journey that is becoming a person in the world today. She battled with cancer for six years, until God called her into Heaven and made her an angel to watch over us for eternity. _**

**_I'll miss her a lot, and I know the spo_****_t she left will not be cured with her replacement. She fought; she fought for us, and that's something I hope everyone can learn from._**

**_This fanfic is just for you, Ms Parish. Until we see each other again..._**

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**Chapter One:**

**The King's Moment of Weakness**

* * *

"Your Majesty is very sure about this matter?"

A stiff nod gestured him to withdraw from the chamber. "Victoria, by God's name, what you are about to do could cost the breaking of treaties forged centuries ago! Maybe even-"

At once, the man knew he had gone too far (both by using her first name, as he did all those years when she had been a Princess Royal, and by using the reprimanding tone). He admired the dignity, courage and elegance that the aura of her body seemed to emit. She moved her head to a side slightly as if considering him.

"I know very well what I am doing, Avery. It is my decision as Queen, and you shall respect it, grudge who will grudge it."

Avery Marrn looked down at his brown robes and white sleeve, his hand clutching a cross, and he glanced at his Queen watching her look at herself in the mirror, preparing herself for the afternoon audiences with the ambassadors. The simple priest who had been a childhood friend from her father, had watched Victoria grow into the woman she was. Born a princess, learned in every language you could think of, in every single matter- religion, philosophy, theology, mathematics...-, she was a formidable monarch.

She was a girl come from royalty beyond others. She knew how to guard her tongue as swiftly as the flow of a river, and she had been told to step carefully and speak kindly to both rich and poor (you never knew hen you might need both) and she fulfilled her duties with nonchalant grace. "Leave me,"

Avery bowed low to the ground, and left quickly.

Victoria heard the door from the secret passage close, and she then finally dropped the mask of queenship and dignity, sighing. She looked into the mirror once again. A beautiful woman looked back at her. Brown locks of hair with matching hazel eyes decorated her face. She had left her hair in curls, to symbolise her opinion about thinking old rules were just common nonsense. Her great gold crown was adorned with emeralds, rubies and sapphires. Her earrings were shiny opals that glittered on her skin. Her purple velvet gown complemented her slim figure and her breasts.

She clutched the golden cross on her necklace, and whispered a word of prayer. Although she had repeated the words over and over again until they felt a common gesture to say at herself in the mirror, this still felt as the most dangerous thing she could do, but her strong will helped her move on.

Victoria Vegarine had never had an easy life.

She had been born a Princess of a kingdom who seemed doomed to destroy itself with the constant disagreement of the nobility of the country, the many assassination plots and the never-ceasing lifestyle of royalty that demanded every ounce of her willpower.

Her caring mother had died miscarrying a brother when she was just three years old, and her father (who remarried two months later) had her formed almost as harshly as high-elite generals of the army. Victoria at her thirteen years of age had become the centre of the court's entertainment. She could make a jest in every language and make the coldest of ambassadors or princes laugh aloud. She danced as gracefully as her mother had done, years before when her father fell in love with her, and she sang as beautifully as a cherub choir. She was fit and beautiful. She could ride horses during hunting expeditions quicker than her father himself; she could play almost any instrument you could name.

However much her father had cherished her only surviving younger brother, everybody at court knew she had been the favourite child. Only she could make him laugh at some incredibly complex theorem, or about a passage from the Bible he was trying to interpret. Only she could make him draw back from a horrible melancholy when he lost at jousting or at any sport. Only she could make the hard, cold, scheming king become a warm, loving, tender father. She was showered with gifts from him, and maybe that's why she had been named next in line if her brother did not have any legitimate heirs.

And that had been the case, and at her twenty-six years of age, she was Queen.

Her thoughts were interrupted as a knock rattled the door. "Enter,"

It was Caterina (or Cat as she called her, having had this maid-in-waiting as a friend since she had been seventeen years old. Her red hair was too let down, and she wore a white dress with a dark blue petticoat adorned with frills. "Your Majesty," she sank into a curtsey. "It is time. The ambassador is here."

Victoria clutched cringed her hands together, feeling the smooth surface of the diamond on the single ring she wore, from her engagement. She took a deep breath and held herself regally. "Thank you, Cat, you may leave." Cat sank into another bow and left quickly as Victoria followed after locking the door to her private rooms.

André of Kenseyside, of course. His most trusted friend and advisor. A new title she supposed was what allowed him to present himself in Carrilean lands in her own palace. "My lord ambassador," she said putting her hand imperiously out for him to kiss it as she smiled at him. André brushed his lips on her fingers. "You are very much welcome to my side of court."

It wasn't even a lie this time. Victoria and André had bonded quickly from all those meeting he had with the king. "Your most gracious Majesty," he said making his bow to her. "It is a pleasure to see you again. I come here sent by his Majesty, the King Beckett of Araleene. I am to inform your Majesty, your husband is deeply concerned about his many letters receiving no answers. He insists you present yourself to the other half of your realm as to formally acknowledge the Prince Beckett as heir to the kingdom."

"You may tell your King he is to expect no apparition from Queen Victoria or of our children. We shall remain in my personal dominions. We are much busy and cannot depart." Victoria said this gracefully, with her head held high, and she could not be faulted by dignity or facial expression. She never betrayed any emotion and her face had a gargoyle smile.

"But Your Majesty!" André remembered they were in the middle of court, and recomposed his reply. "My Queen, I must insist the King stated you-"

"Right now _the King_ shall have to wait." aid Victoria coldly. "Come, my friend, let us speak privately."

André hid his surprise with difficulty and followed Victoria to her rooms.

As soon as he had closed the door and checked there was nobody listening at the keyhole, he turned to face his Queen who had her back turned to him and her arms crossed. "I beg you, milady. Please forgive your husband, and return to Araleene. You are much missed, and the King really wishes you to be back at his side. The sooner your son is named as the next in line to the-"

"I really wish," said Victoria interrupting him, without facing him. "_I really wish_ I could figure out how men's mind work." her tone was colder than ice. "Still he persists for my forgiveness does he, André?"

André gulped. By the stories Beck told him, he knew well behind the calm face, Victoria held a woman who could rage out as strongly as the flames from Hell. "He – he does indeed, Your Majesty. He misses your steadying presence at court. He wishes you and the princesses and the soon-to-be crown prince back at his side, and to reunite the family."

"He does?" Victoria finally let her gaze look at him. She allowed her forehead to crease slightly and her eyebrow to raise itself slightly up. She looked at André as if trying to look deep into his mind and determine what he was thinking. "And what do you think, my lord ambassador?"

"I-I think..." André was astounded that the Queen were asking his opinion over a subject in which he had no business with; but Victoria had the fame of being a revolutionary monarch who never followed rules exactly as she was demanded to. "I think...I truly think that families should not quarrel. It is all wrong when they are divided- I should think love should prevail in marriages whatever the treaties or riches or..."

He stopped immediately as Victoria's eyes squinted slightly menacing as she turned her back on him once more. He had been about to say what the King had done exactly, and it wouldn't be a good thing for the whole court to see him come out of the Queen's rooms all bloody and purple-eyed..

"You may leave," ordered the queen in her regal tone, turning back to him with her hands in the usual courtly manner. "But tell my husband, the King Beckett, his Queen is not leaving Carrile until further notice, and her children are doing likewise."

"Your Majesty," André bowed low. "An honour as always. I bid you farewell."

Victoria heard the door close, and she sat down on her chair, sighing. She was fuming that Beckett could dare to even demand her come to his presence. Husband and wife they may be but she could not bear the fact he had shared a bed with a woman who wasn't her.

_You shan't get my forgiveness that easily, you bastard. Putting your son as an excuse shall get you nowhere_ she thought to herself. _You are going to wait until I say so_.

* * *

"It is very clear to me, Marchioness, that the rightful heir to the family's lands is your brother-in-law. You have married the heir, but you have no sons to follow. His brother shall follow. That is my final word." he sent her away with a nod of his head and he watched the rich clothing leave angrily.

King Beckett Orinliviver resisted the urge to rub his eyes from the weariness. He had been treating about every will in the kingdom that was disputed, and he prayed to God that there was nobody else to discuss with.

Beckett was still a young man, twenty-six, and his sleek handsomeness was famed to rival those of other countries as they fought for the title of best king. He wore a fine, richly embroided doublet, complete with hose and an ermine-trimmed cloak protected his sleek and handsome body from the sudden icy drafts. He felt the crown heavy on his long hair and he moved his hand across his beard, exhausted. Robert, Duke of Liruncie, his personal messenger poked his head into the room (his curls hidden under a hat decorated with pearls. "Your Majesty, Ambassador of Kenseyside has just arrived and he seeks a private audience."

At once, the tiredness of his body leaped out of him as if magically removed from his body and he leaped up with such energy even the guards turned to look at him, stunned. "Send him in at once!" he said slightly shouting.

André entered slowly and could barely look up to face the King. "André old friend!" he bellowed at once and taking big strides to take him aside and enter his chambers. "Come here! Tell me, when is my wife arriving with my son and daughters?"

His grin filled with happiness drained from his face as he saw André leading expression as if expecting punishment for what he was going to say. Beckett braced himself for what was coming. "Her Majesty, the Queen Victoria of Carrile has told me to send her good wishes but that she shall stay there, as will your children."

Beckett cursed under his breath, trying very hard not to bellow like a mad lion in fury. "And what else did she say to you?"  
"Sire?"

"Oh, c'mon you big lump! I give you my word you shall not be punished by anything you say! Now tell me, what did she say to you?"

"She asked me if you still ask for her forgiveness," said André looking at his leather boots, shame-faced. "I explained to her you wish her to come back, but she shall not budge, Your Majesty! She is the most strong-willed monarch in the world! She doesn't accept your apologies and she certainly doesn't want to leave Carrile."

"Damnation," he muttered, and looking at the wedding ring on his middle finger. "What else can I do, André?" he said suddenly desperate. "I know I've been a fool. A sinful fool! I have whipped myself, I have sent her the most extravagant and precious gifts in my kingdom and she sends them back! I apologise endlessly with letters and letters and she does not reply! I know I did wrong but I don't know what else to do!"

André didn't know what to do. He knew he had to do something before Beckett flew into a rage. "You've done enough to send any other woman into ecstasy, but you know Victoria is very different from the rest."

"That's why I love her..." said Beckett quietly. "I _need_ her back."

"It is just an opinion, Your Majesty, but perhaps if we wait just a little, your wife may consider. Just let it flow a little and let her consider things." said André quietly. "You know how the Queen is. Living blood and flesh of King David IV."

Beckett sighed, and planted a hand on the shoulder of his friend and recently, ambassador. "You did well, André. Please come and dine with me tonight. I am too weary to eat dinner with my full court. The endless gossip and dancing and feasting is all just a big waste."

"I thank you," said André bowing his head and smiling- half in relief, and half because he could finally talk with Beckett without having to talk so elegantly.

As André left the hall, Robert poked his head once more in. "The Dowager Countess of Cartilonage is here."  
He could have screamed out loud at this, but he couldn't.

A King could never show emotions to any common subject, and he knew he would have to withstand the begging from another noble for some stupid hereditary reason or because they wanted to plead for the case of their son being charged for some crime or trying to ask him to permit their sons to boycott going to the army.

"When are you going to come back Victoria?"

* * *

"If that is indeed the case, Your Majesty, take into account that my men and I will be ready to cross the border and recapture our rightful land."

Victoria looked at the man bowing before her. The Earl of Lieon wasn't the noble with the most lands, highest rank according to gentry or army, but his fierce spirit and intelligence gave him good fame at all the courts in the world and an authority that only she, the King, and perhaps maybe the Grand Duke, questioned.

"I thank you, Reginald." said Victoria with a bitter-sweet smile, trying to shadow her dislike at him. The earldom of Lieon had been always criticized for having some of the most corrupt and power-hungry leaders who had escaped justice by a simple combination of sheer luck and high title of nobility. "You may leave my presence."

As he left the hall, Victoria put down her fork, not the least bit hungry although she had barely touched the food on her plate. "Jadelyn?"

A maid soon appeared after some quick clicking of high-heels on the polished floors. "You called, my lady?"

Jadelyn had grown to be a woman of rare prettiness which had started to fade slowly with the years, although anyone could see she was still young and fit for a man. Her hair, black as a crow, was in a tight bun, hid by a white hennin. Her rather pale skin was hid under a very deep blue. Victoria knew at the current moment, she would love wearing black, but she was not allowing any of her ladies wearing any type of mourning colours during these times.

"You can give the cook my compliments, but tonight, he can distribute the food between you." said Victoria, standing up. "My appetite is asleep, as my soul yearns to be right now."

"I will make sure your rooms are ready," said Jadelyn, unsmiling, signalling a pair of other servant girls to start picking up the plates of food. "If you shall excuse me, Your Highness."

Victoria watched her go, and then made way to her rooms, where, as she expected every night, Cat was waiting, with a hot bath, and her nightdress ready. "The night seems weary for someone who wears the crowns of two grand kingdoms." commented Cat as she helped her undress and led her to the bath.

"Ah, but solely nights of restless sleep, my dear." said Victoria, giving a small sigh of relief at the warmth of the water.

"I don't doubt it," said Cat smiling, and Victoria once again felt relief gush inside her as they could speak normally and not without the abnormal chit-chat of everyday royal life. "I don't understand how you can stand the Earl. D'you know he began looking for a third wife, when he heard the second one was liable to die in childbirth?"

"Oh, I don't know what to think of men anymore, Cat." said the Queen feeling her smooth skin. "I warrant my husband the King must have been on the verge of doing the very same thing."

The coldness of her tone sent chills down her best friend and chief maid's spine. "Why d'you not return? He loves you still, as any rational man would if they had married you..."

"Are men even rational nowadays? If he really loved me as much as everyone says he does, he wouldn't have submerged into despicable sin." she stood up and after drying up, put on her nightdress. "I know he wants me back, and yet he still puts his own son and daughters as an excuse. Has he not enough wits or guts to face my concern?"

"If everyone says he is deeply remorseful about all of this, then it must be in some part truth!" pointed out Cat, as she took a bathrobe for her mistress to wrap around her thin nightdress.

"Dear Cat, I have learnt to trust things high above court rumours as my life has over gone it's journey." and without further ado, she slipped under the covers, and desperately closed her eyes, trying to sleep- hoping she wouldn't really be restless during the night as she had predicted. "And I know very well my marriage and happiness isn't the only thing upon your conscience that tells you to persuade me make haste to Araleene."

Cat blushed scarlet in embarrassment. Truly, Victoria had the uncanny ability to know every single secret or thought about her ladies. How she could remember that she yearned to see Duke Robert, her sweet love, Cat did not know. It was true she wished to soon become more than a love to him, and become a wife. Why couldn't she? A daughter- only heir to three earldoms- his family would approve wouldn't they?

"Goodnight, Your Majesty,"

"Goodnight, Cat." said the Queen wearily, nodding at her friend to leave and return home. "And may your love be the first and very last one, too."

* * *

_**I hope the chapter was good enough!**_

_**So...why is Queen Victoria fumingat the King? Will she ever go back to see him?**_

_**See you next chapter, and please review!**_


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